That's what intimacy is, isn't it? Not the loud moments. Not the declarations. It's the way your thumb traces the same small circle on my hip when you're lost in a book. It's the half-smile you give me from across a crowded kitchen, like we're sharing a secret no one else could hear.
Some people search their whole lives for a moment this quiet. And here I am — tangled in sheets and you — afraid to move, because moving might break the spell. intimatepov
I shake my head. You pull me closer, and suddenly the dark isn't empty anymore. It's full — full of your warmth, your heartbeat against my palm, your voice low and rough and meant only for me. That's what intimacy is, isn't it
The Space Between Heartbeats
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